


i held a fallen star and it wept for me, dying

by inhabitress (excelestial)



Category: Slender Man Mythos, Tribe Twelve
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Other, because stars are the shit tbh, because this boy needs some nice things to happen, but in a way that is wholesome and just good, he just misses his bro a lot, i want to be the oprah but with stars, in reality this is just an excuse tbh, it's fucking reflection time with effie, mentions of Milo, needs to experience something beautiful at least, noah is v gay for milo, space shit is my shit, this is happening during canon btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excelestial/pseuds/inhabitress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>noah just wants to feel okay, just for one night. (or noah watches the stars and remembers milo.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i held a fallen star and it wept for me, dying

Reality has never been the a clear cut slice of Noah's perception. He's seen the horrors who morph into grotesque forms under the pitch black shadow of night, who's voices sound eerily like the memories he desperately tries to forget. So much depravity that haunts the world with vivid glee and all Noah wants is to feel like he's real, human- alive. He's heard that eyes are the windows to the soul- he's heard the cliche far too many times to humor it with a laugh anymore- but he refrains from meeting his own eyes when he passes mirrors because he's terrified of what might be looking back. So, harsh reality be damned, Noah just wants to have a brief affair with fantasy; a single night where he can feel like all of this- this fucked up choreography that he's been made to dance-is just some sick joke and forget it. 

Noah wishes he could remember how he got on the roof of his house.

That being said, he doesn't particularly mind it- soft breezes that rustle the leaves of a nearby tree and the sure, subtle bite of shingles into the back of his calves. It's a comfort, skewed as it may be, but a comfort nonetheless. Fear is not on his mind, not tonight; for tonight he thinks of only moments when the pain in his chest was from doubling over in fits of laughter and not from some malevolent force biding harm upon him for some darker purpose. The night breeds horrors like a vile machine; however, tonight, Noah only sees the blanket of stars that warm the silk sky overhead, wholly boundless. Cloudless, nothing stands between Noah and the sky other than a thick layer of atmosphere and his own willingness to let go, just for tonight, just once. Noah wouldn't mind being guided by the soft glow of the moon as it hangs above.

Pulling his knees to his chest, the heels of Noah's feet struggle to find purchase on the roof for a moment before he manages to find his personal gravity. Long arms wrapping around his legs, Noah hugs himself and settles his chin atop his knees with a quiet sigh. The rings under his eyes are dark and heavy, too many sleepless nights coupled with inconceivable horrors that plague him relentlessly with no concern for the sun- something seen usually as sanctuary from creatures carved of nightmares. But, right now, there's something soothing about the night. He couldn't really forget everything that he's endured but he can ignore it for a short while, let his mind slip to a better place- a happier place. 

A comet zips across the velvet sky, transcending with a tail of passionate fire- the darkness ignited in it's wake. It's life is short but it is beautiful, unequivocally so. 

Noah makes a small noise, some unsettling concoction of despair and wistfulness, as an image of Milo spills into his thoughts while he watches the brilliant light sputter into the emptiness. A lump forms in his throat, choking on the picture in his head. He's so happy- Milo is- like smiling is second only to the marvel of the world. Milo was angular, sharp, but he was always so soft, gentle and caring. Milo laughed and Noah felt so blessed, like he was hearing something special, sacred. There were always nights- nights just like this, where the clouds were gone and the moon shined like a beacon- that they would sneak out of their rooms and go outside, scale a nearby tree and just watch the stars. Neither of them talked, but they both knew how the other felt; it was their moment, something unique that they shared. The stars and their luminosity, they were just for the two of them- Milo and Noah, Noah and Milo. Being a child meant whimsy and excitement, something he feels is entirely forsaken to him nowadays; adulthood is riddled with overwhelming underachievement and poisoned by unmet aspirations. But, for the short while of his adult life that he had Milo, Noah genuinely believed nothing could harm him, that there wasn't any blow that could possibly knock him down. Because Milo made him stand back up, a crutch Noah never understood but now craves again. 

Then Noah realizes just how celestial Milo was and he can't stop the tears that flow down his cheeks. 

How nebulous Milo's dark eyes were, twinkling with a folly that can only be described as youthful whimsy- innocence not yet soiled by the corruption of something larger than any of them. Internally, Noah hates himself for being so blind to the fading glow- assisting in Milo's deconstruction because he was too ignorant of the signs, signs he knows all too well now because he's face-to-face with them. The light in Milo, the vying good, slowly drained, succumbing to the darkness looming over him, razor teeth and malicious cackles. It swallowed Milo whole and Noah, obtuse Noah with his lack of knowledge, just watched as Milo bore a weight he never should have carried in the first place, much less alone.

Asteroid belts that clung to the fragile inside of Milo's wrists, rickety edges like his hand- his orbit- couldn't keep steady, always shaking. Noah never said anything, but he noticed- he always noticed. They were raw, red-hot, and they claimed Milo as their domain, rocketing across Milo's skin with wild abandon, despicably violent and weaving together. In hindsight, Noah thinks, with great disdain and a pit in his stomach, it could have very well been the only reason Milo made it as long as he did- severing himself to keep himself whole, sculpting away the parts of himself monsters could reach so they have less of a hold on him. They crash, those belts, and it's clear to see the torn edges where Milo's will faltered. Hurdling, those asteroids left an impression on both Milo and Noah, however varying those impressions may be.

Milo's tongue dripped solar flares, laden with maddening outbursts that Noah foolishly dismissed for a poorly-made attempt to mess with him. The words were scorching and Noah could not- would not- deny that some of them left burns, burns that Noah continues to wear to this day because now they serve a purpose. They remind Noah of what Milo endured so bravely, defiantly fighting demons both internally and externally, and how Noah needs to do the same. An intense desire to memorialize Milo has gifted Noah this same tongue, the one that scalds with venom and cares not of who it hurts because Noah ~~wants~~ must honor Milo, figure out this labyrinth of hell. Hell hath it's own fires that singe with the slightest touch, but it knows not of the anger, the rage, that now brands Noah, a reincarnation of Milo's own flame. 

A planetary being, Milo was something otherworldly, in every sense of the term. His orbit was his own, but he strayed from the path of which he was set- predestined to travel- because something pushed him. And Milo, clement Milo, he wouldn't fight back. He braced for the abuse and he took it, but his walls, they crumbled like flower petals under the weight. Buckling, Milo fell and Noah, he blames himself for not being there to pick Milo up. Milo fell, he tumbled and crashed, from his circuit and Noah hates himself for not realizing it. 

The sounds spilling from Noah's mouth are gross, some polluted mixture of a broken sob and a furious scream. It paints the night in agony, a tortured soul hopelessly seeking redemption- Noah doesn't care if his neighbors hear him, they haven't heard him yet so why start now. Pressing his face to his knees, the coarse material of Noah's jeans are damp with his tears. A shaky cry escapes Noah, caught between his legs and chest and it echoes hollowly in his ears and he's never felt so alone. There's such loneliness infecting the world but Noah feels it clinging to him, sinking him to some unseen depth. Noah gasps brokenly, attempting to catch his breath as he looks up at the sky once more with glossy, wet eyes. Another shooting star burns brilliantly in the night sky and, for whatever reason, this time it's different. This time, Noah sees himself in the star- the atrocity he's been crafted into by violent hands and it hurts so much. 

"I miss you too, Milo," Noah whispers hoarsely, chest tight as his knees pull tighter to his body with his bare toes curling into the gritty shingles, "miss you so goddamn fucking much."


End file.
